Here I Am
by Emmithar
Summary: Greg takes what he feels like is the only option left after the unthinkable happens, leaving the rest of the team to deal with his ultimate decision. Character death
1. Default Chapter

**Here I Am**

**By: **Emmithar

**Rating: **M

**Summary: **Greg takes what he feels like is the only option left after the unthinkable happens, leaving the rest of the team to deal with his ultimate decision. Character death

**Warnings: **Mentioning of Rape, reason why it's rated M.

**A/N:** -Gasps- yes, I did…-sniff- I actually did…once again, blame the plot bunny for this one. Heavy angst, even more so than 'I'll Try' I plan on having this two chapters long, the second chapter more of a follow up, not sure yet, so I can use the feedback to see where you guys want this story geared to.

**Disclaimer:** As always, there are not mine, oh how I wish they were though

* * *

**Chapter One: Remembrance**

He held it now, in his hands, unopened. Swallowing he turned it over, reaching for fold of the manila envelope, his fingers coming to a rest at the top. His hands were shaking as he let out a breath, turning it back over and setting it down on the table. He watched it for a moment, as if expecting it to jump at him, or something of a similar matter, before scooting it away further, turning back to his other work.

Greg was only grateful there was other work to do, though his mind still distracted, as his eyes kept shifting back to the package. His hands weren't shaking as bad anymore, since he had put it down. Still, it was too close for comfort, and so he slid his chair, bringing his current work with him.

He became consumed in his work once he was able to get going. For a while it was as if it never had happened; for a moment he could pretend. Giving a short nod when Nick dropped off samples, Greg kept himself busy, but as time passed on, it became harder. Everything was nearly done when Sara showed up, asking about her samples.

Greg shook his head, glancing at the package from the corner of his eye. "I haven't…gotten to it yet," he said slowly, as if finding the words were difficult. In some sense they were.

"I gave it to you this morning," Sara reminded him, somewhat surprised that it was still sitting fully encased on the table.

"I know," Greg responded, "I've been busy, that's all."

"You're doing Nick's case?" Sara asked, incredulous, "Greg, my case takes precedence over his. A twelve year old girl was raped and murdered. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Greg swallowed, nodding, but unable to say anything at first. "I've been busy…I forgot about it, I'm sorry," he apologized, looking up to her for a moment, before looking back down.

She frowned, shaking her head softly. "Get to work on it," she told him softly, "page me when you find out anything."

Greg nodded, reaching over for the envelope, watching her leave. He had purposely waited until she was gone before retrieving it. His hands were shaking again as he fumbled with the opening, part of him not wanting to open it. He could only think, only wonder…

What were her thoughts? What was she thinking, in those last moments of life? Would she had rather lived after what had happened to her, or did dieing bring her comfort? Greg closed his eyes as he pulled the kit free, holding it tentatively in his hands, as if he was afraid he would break it. _Doesn't that mean anything to you?_ Greg nodded; yes…it meant a lot.

Drawing in a deep breath, Greg laid it flat on the table as he began to work, trying his hardest not to think at all.

* * *

Sara leaned over the table, scanning from one item to the other, moving carefully. She picked up what looked like an old tire rim, running a swab over it, checking for blood before putting it back down with a sigh.

"I don't think we're going to get anything off of here," she said, turning to Catherine who was working next to her.

Catherine nodded, "That's nice, now keep looking. Make sure you tag that, we don't want to spend our time looking over stuff that's already been checked."

Sara frowned, waiting a moment before snatching up a tag. They had been at this for hours now, digging through contents found in a dumpster. It was something she had done several times before, something she did not enjoy. Trash, first off, did not smell at all pleasant. Then the smell often lingered with you afterwards.

Digging through the pile some more, she tested several more items before breaking the silence again. "Hey Cath, have you talked to Greg today?"

"A few hours ago, why?"

Sara shrugged, tagging several more items. "I don't, he just seems…different, I guess."

"He's quiet," Catherine offered, picking up several old magazines from the pile.

"Yeah, but that's not all…I can't explain it, it's just…he's not himself today."

"He's just having an off day," Catherine said lightly, "My guess, hangover."

Sara laughed, turning to her, "Can you picture Greg drunk? In the least bit I mean?"

Catherine laughed lightly as well. "I don't know, but it's possible. Greg's been a little stressed lately. A few drinks eases the mind sometimes, but leaves nasty side effects in the morning."

Sara nodded, turning back to her work. "Tell me about it. Not that I have any experience mind you."

Catherine laughed, "Yeah, I've heard that excuse before."

"What about you?" Sara wondered, surprised to see her nod.

"I've had my fair share of hangovers, not for a while now though. I've given up drinking for the most part since I had Lindsey, want to set a good example, you know."

Sara nodded in understanding. She didn't have anyone looking up to her, so she didn't have to worry about her appearance. Not that having a family never crossed her mind; she just didn't have time for it.

Still, despite what Catherine had said, she still wondered about Greg. The look she had seen in his eyes, even for the brief moment he had actually looked at her, said that there was something more going on than a hangover. But she dropped it for now, knowing that Catherine would say no more about it.

When she picked up her samples again an hour later, she watched him more closely, studying him even. He was indeed quiet, handing over the results without as much as a word. She glanced through the papers, looking back up at him.

"Are you okay?" she asked of him.

He nodded curtly, not saying anything as he turned away from her. He was purposely avoiding her gaze. Sitting down next to him, she placed the papers on the table. "Greg, talk to me, what's wrong?"

Greg shook his head, his back still turned towards her. "It doesn't matter," he whispered quietly, his voice unsteady.

She frowned, her eyes narrowing as she moved over to the other side of him. He glanced up briefly once again, but looked away soon after, leaning his head against his hand.

"If it doesn't matter, then you won't mind telling me," she encouraged him.

Greg shook his head again, his voice even lower. "I can't," was all he said.

"Why not?" she wondered, watching him still.

"Because," his answers were starting to sound all the same.

"Because why Greg?"

"Because…I…I'm not strong enough," he whispered, his voice broken as he pressed a hand against his face.

Sara was taken aback, her mouth hanging open slightly as she watched him, his shoulders shaking as he bent over some. She couldn't believe it, Greg was crying. Not just crying, he was bawling, silent sobs that shook his entire body. Greg Sanders was crying. This wasn't the Greg she knew, not in the least bit. She had assumed that he was upset, assumed that something small had happened, one of those things that bothered you for a long time after, but this, this was completely unexpected. Her hands folded slightly, unsure of what to do, unknowing if contact would cause more harm than good.

He wiped his face down quickly, able to compose himself somewhat. His breaths were ragged, his voice still drawn and quiet, it was hard to hear him.

"I was so stupid," he told her; he was trembling softly.

"Greg, you're not stupid," she started, but was surprised when he cut her off.

"I normally don't go alone," he explained, "I needed some time to think, some time to relax. So I went anyway, even though I had no one to go with. Some guys started talking next to me, we were all talking pretty soon…" he drew in a ragged breath, burying his head in his hand again. The other he used to wrap himself in a meager embrace.

"They must have slipped something in my drink," he told her after a moment, his bottom lip quivering. "They had to…the next thing I know…it was dark…and they were over me…all over me. I told them to stop,' his voice grew quieter; Sara had to strain in order to hear him. "I begged them to stop…they only laughed," he hid his face once more as he began to cry again.

Sara became alarmed, scooting closer to him as she lowered her voice. "Greg…you were…raped?" she said slowly, watching him.

He closed his eyes, another sob working its way from him. "I couldn't move, I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe," he rambled, opening his eyes slowly. "Only the pain…I've never felt so afraid before."

"Did you report it?" Sara asked after a prolonged silence.

Greg immediately shook his head, "No," he said firmly, turning to her. His face was red, his cheeks flushed and eyes still filled with tears. "You can't say anything," he pleaded.

"Greg, you're just going to let them walk away, after what they did to you?" Sara demanded, her voice louder than meant.

Greg shook his head, "Don't say anything, please, no one can know."

"They belong behind bars, not out wandering the streets."

Still Greg was shaking his head. "No, I can't…won't…what would everyone think? What would they say? Seeing me like…this…" he mumbled softly, turning away.

"Greg, they are still out there, what if they rape someone else?" Sara asked, hoping it would change his mind. "What if it was me? Or what if it was Lindsey, that they took next? How would you feel then? Greg, you can put a stop to them, you have that power. You could fill out a written statement. I'll run the case, only Grissom and I would know, I swear."

Greg cried softly, leaning on the table as he ran his hands through his hair. "I can't…" he said slowly.

Sara laid a hand on his shoulder, pulling back when she felt him tense up under her light touch. "You have to try Greg…don't let this happen to someone else…did you go to the hospital at all?" she wondered, only to realize how stupid it sounded. If he hadn't told anyone, why then would he have gone to the hospital?

Greg shook his head wearily. "No…" he whispered, turning towards her. "I'll…I'll fill one out…" he managed to choke out.

Sara nodded, "I'll go get you one…" she told him gently. "Then I'll take you home," she added.

He only nodded, wiping his face as she left the room. She was dumbfounded, still unable to comprehend what he had just told her. In her mind, there was no way possible. Checking the hallways to make sure no one was paying attention; she slipped inside Grissom's office, pulling free a file before returning. Greg was waiting for her, more composed even though it was quite clear he had been crying.

Sara left a page with Grissom to let him know she was taking Greg home due to illness, a last second excuse as they slipped outside to the parking lot. The ride to his apartment was quiet, neither Greg nor Sara said a word, not even as she led him the stairs, helping him inside.

Sara closed the door, stepping around the small sheltie that was obviously excited to see both of them at this time of day. Greg collapsed on the couch, calling the young dog over to his side so Sara could come all the way in.

Sara dropped the forms on the counter top, turning towards him. "You want me to get you something?" she asked him quietly, walking over the couch.

He shook his head dully as she sat down next to him. "No…" he breathed lightly, "I'm…I'm okay."

She watched him, desperate to give comfort somehow, but unsure of what to say or even do. "You want me to stay?" She moved her arms as the sheltie jumped in her lap.

"Jenni," Greg sat up some, pulling the dog's collar lightly, "down girl, leave her alone."

Sara laughed softly, "It's okay, I don't mind," she told him, scratching behind Jenni's ears as the dog continued to whine, settling down on her lap.

"You want me to stay?" she asked after a moment.

"No, you go on ahead. I'll probably sleep it off…"

She nodded slowly, "I can stay, I don't mind."

"Go on…" Greg told her quietly, able to manage a small smile. "You've done enough already, really…"

"Fill the forms out," she told him, standing after a minute, waiting until Jenni had jumped down. "The least we can do is put these creeps where they belong. I'll be back later on."

He nodded, not saying anything, or even showing her out the door. Sara closed it behind her reluctantly, before headed down the stairs back into her car.

* * *

The first thing she did when she got back was track Grissom down; he wasn't that hard to find, being in his office. She shut the door on the way in, sitting down in the chair. "We need to talk," she said quickly.

Grissom glanced at her over his glasses. "Of course you can come in; I'm not doing anything important."

She didn't respond to his comment, only leaning forward. "I took Greg home," she started, "I assume you got my page?"

He nodded, "How bad is he?"

"I gave him one of these," she told him quietly, pushing the single form towards him. He picked it up, frowning as he glanced over it.

"Sara, these forms are for…"

She nodded, cutting him off. "I know."

Shifting his chair, Grissom sat up. "You can't be serious," he stated quietly, watching her nod.

"I wish I wasn't, I really do. I want to take this case, no questions asked, no one else knows. That's the only way I was able to convince him to fill them out. Let me do this."

Grissom nodded slowly after a moment, trying to process all that she had told him. "I'm guessing he's told no one else?"

Sara gave him a sad smile, looking down at her hands. Grissom nodded in understanding, "Take the case, keep it quiet, for his sake at least."

"I will," she answered softly, giving him one last look before leaving his office.

* * *

Out of everything that had happened, Greg could not believe he had told Sara. He hadn't planned on telling anyone, it just sort of came out. Unable to stop it, he had bawled right in front of her. He had never felt more weak or hopeless in his life, aside from last night.

Shivering at the thoughts Greg pushed himself to his feet, looking over the forms Sara had left on the counter. He pushed them away, closing his eyes as silent tears overtook him once again.

Even now it still felt like they were here, their cold hands sliding over him…touching…

He drew in a ragged breath, coughing, choking rather, on his tears. He pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes, trying to will the tears back. But they broke through, running down his face, landing on the papers beneath.

Softly, he drew his hands away, reaching with one to pull his sleeve back, staring that bruises that covered his arm. They had held him down here…it had been easy for them…one had held him down; while the others played…they had taken turns…

Greg grabbed onto the counter, feeling sick as he continued to cry. He had been doing so good, had been able to hide it so well until Sara had pressed him. Yet she was only trying to help, he knew…so why did he feel so much worse now?

Glancing back over the forms, he shook his head, reaching for the pen that lay on the counter, knowing what he had to do. Grabbing a small piece of paper, he wrote something carefully, folding it in half twice, before picking up the forms and heading back to the couch.

* * *

Sara had distracted herself with the previous case, checking the clock to see the time. She was planning on heading back over to check in on Greg, knowing him, he probably hadn't eaten. If there was something she could do to lighten him mood, then she would.

The look he had given her while telling the story, it had been unnerving. There was nothing there; emptiness…the light in his eyes was gone. It would take time, she knew, for him to heal; she could only hope it wouldn't scar him too badly.

She glanced up, sensing someone in the doorway. Grissom watched her quietly, and she gave him a small smile. "Hey," she told him.

Grissom looked down, letting out a sigh, causing her smile to disappear quickly. "What's wrong?"

"Get your case," he said quietly, avoiding her gaze as he turned to leave.

**TBC…**

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**Once again, let me know what you guys think, only one more chapter, or do you want to go further into emotions?**


	2. There I Was

**This was a really hard chapter for me to write, so I hope you enjoy**

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**Chapter Two: There I Was**

It wasn't supposed to be like this, this was never supposed to happen. Sara could only hold her breath as Grissom climbed the stairs, only stopping to turn when she didn't follow. Her gaze was lost in everything else, too many emotions playing on her face at once.

Swallowing her breath, she didn't even look his way as he ventured back down the stairs, coming to a stop next to her.

"Sara," he said softly, calling her name, waiting for a moment to see if she would acknowledge him. "Can you handle this?"

Sara nodded dully after a moment. Grissom had told her on the way over, and even now she still refused to believe it. People were watching from the sidewalks, many of them residents of the apartment houses. They had been asked to leave, offered a temporary stay for the following hours they would be out of their places. Only a few had gone, the rest had remained, waiting to see what they could.

The yellow tape flickered in the wind, stretched out in front of the apartments, behind the police cars. Several officers already stood on the stairs, the paramedics already leaving the scene. Brass waited for them at the top.

Sara felt as though her feet had turned into led, each step was more difficult to take then the last, one hand holding her case, the other, gripping the railing tightly, as if afraid she was going to fall.

Brass met them with a short nod in exchange for a greeting. "He's inside," he told them quietly, not willing to meet their gaze. He led them inside, Sara only a few steps behind Grissom, fully aware that he was watching her from the corner of his eye.

Everything looked as it had before, when she left only a few short hours before. She came to a stop outside the room, watching as Grissom and Brass went in. Her mind was racing as she willed herself to take the last few steps, coming to rest against the door frame.

Each scene was different, your eye was almost always drawn to the victim, but sometimes the area around it was more catching. Sometimes Sara was drawn to closely to a victim, knowing secretly how they must have felt, something she never had told anyone else. This, however, was different, far different.

Taking a few more steps in, Sara set her case down on the floor, before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. She was able to do little else, other than watch him. If she hadn't known any better, she would have thought him asleep.

Reaching over slowly, Sara let her hand fall on his own outstretched fingers, surprised by the iciness, even though she knew deep down that she shouldn't be. Wrapping her fingers around his, she held them in her own, as if trying to warm them back up.

She should have never left. Despite what he had said, Sara could easily see he was not okay. What kind of person was she? Greg was hurting, and he needed someone there for him, and she had just left.

Suddenly she jerked her hand back, afraid and ashamed to be near him. Feeling sick, she found herself back out in the main room, barely aware the Grissom was calling after her. She came to a stop near the front door, one hand pressed against her mouth, muffling the short sobs that came out.

Grissom came up behind her, guiding her by the arm, leading her back to the couch. Hastily she wiped her eyes, though it did little to help, as she was still crying. Shaking her head she avoided his gaze, muttering through her sobs.

"I can't do this," she confessed, her gaze trained on her hands; they were shaking gently.

Grissom was in front of her, taking her hands in his, folding them together. "It's okay," he told her quietly. "I can get someone else if you want."

Quickly, she shook her head. "No, then they would know what happened to him, I promised him that wouldn't happen," she looked up at him, tears still evident in her eyes. "I can, I can do this…just give me a minute," she pleaded.

Grissom nodded, rubbing her hands soothingly. He glanced back up as David made his way out, nodding to them. "He's been dead a little over an hour," he said quietly. "I'll take him when you're done," he added.

Sara squeezed her eyes shut, processing this new information. Just over an hour…if she had left work only an hour before she could have saved him. All the sudden she felt sick again. But she couldn't, she had promised him, and the last thing she was going to do was break that promise. Slowly, she willed the horrible feeling down.

_No thoughts, no emotions, _she reminded herself.

Opening her eyes was somewhat surprised to find Grissom watching her. Nodding strongly she pushed herself back up into a standing position, aware that the only reason she was standing was because Grissom was helping to support her right then. He waited until the both of them were sure Sara could stand on her own before letting go.

"Let's do this," Sara told him, relived to see him nod as they both walked back into the room.

* * *

Word spread quickly, faster than a wildfire in the driest of months. All that was known for certain was that Greg was, in fact dead. No one took the news easily, but the members of the nightshift were sickened, and shocked. Rumors followed shortly after, but none were confirmed or denied.

Sara did well to avoid any uncomfortable situations, after her short episode back at the apartments; Sara had managed to pull herself together, shutting out any emotions that threatened to enter. She had also not stopped working since they had received the call.

In the morgue she found Doc Robbins, glad to find that he had already finished on Greg; she wasn't sure if she could handle seeing him like that. His smile was grim, if he had one on at all, leading her over to the counter.

"Hardest case I ever worked," he started out, pausing before continuing, his tone becoming the one she knew so well. "Greg died from heart failure," he told her simply, holding up a hand at her questioning gaze. "His heart was in good condition, healthy, and he had no record of family illnesses. I did find some trace samples," he handed her a small vial as he continued, "you can run them to be certain what it is, but my guess would be some sort of depressant that was mixed with an alcoholic beverage, a deadly combination. It would have been enough to stop his heart."

Sara let out a sigh, staring at the vial she clutched in her hand, nodding solemnly. "We found an empty bottle of sleeping pills and an empty glass next to the bed," she offered up lightly.

Robbins nodded, "Depending on how much he took, it would have killed him in only a few minutes."

She glanced up at him, giving him a small thanks before turning to leave, his words stopping her at the doors. "He was a good kid," he offered up.

Glancing over her shoulder, hand resting on the door, Sara nodded. "Yes, he was."

* * *

It wasn't till the next morning that the nightshift gathered together for a small breakfast. No one was all that hungry, so instead they just sipped on coffee, talking among one another quietly. All of them were reacting differently to the incident.

Warrick was shocked; he hadn't known the lab tech all that well. He had known him well enough that Greg was a joker by heart, his jokes light and easy sometimes, while others could be irritating or downright funny, depending on who they were directed at.

Nick, on the other hand, was furious that Grissom wouldn't let him work the case. When he had asked, Grissom had simply told him that he and Sara were already working on it. The Texan wanted to help find the killer, still not willing to believe that Greg had killed himself, even though all the evidence had pointed towards it, and had confirmed it as well.

Catherine was just shocked, dumbfounded when she had heard the news, feeling even worse when she had read it the paper later on. She had gone home that night, wrapping her daughter in a hug, and holding her as she slept, the simple gesture making her feel both safer, and yet guilty at the same time for not being able to save what had been lost.

Grissom was still having a hard time facing the reality of it all. Even working the case, processing his body and the scene, he was almost certain it hadn't quite sunk in yet. His main worry, of course, was on Sara, knowing she was the last one to have been with him.

As far as Sara went, the change was most noticeable in her. No one took it quite too seriously, all of them fully aware she took things more personally then the rest. Only Grissom really knew what was actually tearing her apart inside, and he was afraid she was going to go where no one could reach her if they weren't careful.

"I don't get it," Nick stated, catching Grissom's attention. "Why would Greg just go off and kill himself? It doesn't make any sense."

Catherine agreed lightly, "He was quiet, but he didn't seem upset. Then again, maybe I didn't look close enough."

"People who normally commit suicide, often think about it for quite a while before actually attempting it," Grissom put in, turning away from all their questioning looks.

"So," Nick shrugged his shoulders, "What happened that was so drastic that Greg killed himself then? I can't recall anything."

Sara looked down at the napkin that was folded in her lap, her fingers laced together. She was unaware that Grissom too, had looked away. Everyone else noticed though.

"You know something," Nick stated the obvious. The others nodded in agreement, their eyes shifting from Grissom to Sara, and back again.

Sara glanced up slightly, shaking her head at the same time as Grissom spoke up. "Yes," he said softly, "we do."

Sara turned to him, her voice quiet even though the others could still hear easily enough. "No," she hissed, "You can't say anything."

"Sara, they have the right to know," he answered, his gaze matching hers.

"You can't," she repeated herself, her voice rising now, not caring that the others were watching. "I promised him."

"They care about him too Sara," Grissom argued, but was cut off again by her.

"I promised him that no one else would ever know, you can't take my word back, that's all I have to offer him."

"He wouldn't want this to go on," Grissom sighed, "he needs closure, we all do."

Sara was still shaking her head, starting to cry now. Across from her, Catherine spoke up. "We don't need to know," she stated, even though she desperately did want to.

"Yes," Grissom intervened, "You do. It's not fair to you guys to be shut out," he drew in a deep breath, thinking over in his mind how to phrase it, realizing after a moment there was no better way to say it. "Greg was raped, a few days back." He said it quickly, not even looking to see their expressions.

"I can't believe you," Sara whispered forcefully, leaving the table at the same time in one swift manner. Grissom made a move to go after her, but Nick held up a hand, stopping him.

"I'll go talk to her," he said quietly, feeling guilty he had provoked the conversation to start. Grissom nodded, sitting back down as Nick headed off in the same direction, leaving Grissom to explain the details.

He found Sara outside, fumbling with her purse, trying to pull her keys out, her head down, shielding her eyes from the rain. Cursing as the dropped to the ground, Sara kicked the side of the car before leaning against it, crying softly. When Nick touched her shoulder, she didn't move away, only allowed herself to be pulled in against him.

"You weren't thinking of driving like this, were you?" Nick asked softly, in a feeble attempt to start a conversation, rubbing her back as he held her.

Sara sniffed against his shoulder, turning her head into the rain, the drops mingling with her own tears. "I just want to go home," she said quietly. "This, all of this, it hurts too much."

Nick nodded in understanding, leaning his head on top of hers. "I know," he said calmly, "I know it does. It's supposed to; we want to make it go away, but it only reminds us how much we loved them. Sometimes it goes to show how precious life is, how much someone meant to us, and we don't realize what we've lost until it's gone."

Sara swallowed, pulling away gently as she looked up into his eyes, her hair clinging to the side of her face, the short strands drenched from the water. "But how do you stop feeling guilty?"

"It takes time," Nick stated, "time and talking. You can't shut yourself off; it's too hard to do. We shouldn't forget someone just because they're gone."

Sara shook her head turning away. "That's not what I mean…Nick, I think, I think I killed him."

Nick took a step back, slightly shocked, "Why would you say something like that?"

She shut her eyes, leaning back against the car when Nick let her go. "I made him tell me what happened…I knew that something was wrong and I wouldn't leave him alone until he told me what. I took him home…and I just left him. If I didn't make him talk about it, he probably wouldn't have killed himself…or if I had stayed with him…"

Nick pulled her back into an embrace, telling her differently. "No Sara, you did what you could. You did more than any of us, hell, at least you noticed. No one else thought to take a second glance. You didn't hurt him, you didn't make him suffer. Don't start blaming yourself, you hear?"

Sara nodded dully, biting her lip. "I can't help it though, I can't help feel that he'd still be here if it wasn't for me. What good am I?"

Nick titled her head up, his finger resting under his chin. "Sara, don't start talking like that. This is hard enough, I can't stand losing you too, promise me that?" he wondered.

Sara nodded after a few moments, but Nick still wasn't convinced. Bending down he collected her keys, leading her away from the car. "Come on, you're staying the night with me. We'll get you dried off, have some hot coca and talk, how does that sound?"

She protested slightly, but knew he wasn't going to let up, so instead just gave in. Aside from that factor, Sara didn't exactly want to be alone that night.

**TBC**


	3. Home

**Here's one I haven't updated in ages. Ending's really short, but it's been sitting on my computer for months, and I couldn't think of any other way to finish it. Hopefully you'll will like it.**

* * *

**Chapter Three: Home**

Maybe it had really happened, or maybe it was her imagination. Perhaps she had wanted it so badly, that she had forced herself to see him. She had heard his voice first, a single sentence that brought out an entire conversation that they had had several months ago.

"Everyone dies sooner or later in life, you can't change that," Greg had once told her.

"It doesn't make it right," Sara had corrected him.

"I never said that it did," Greg argued his point clearly. "All I'm saying is that when the time comes, you have to learn to let it go."

Let it go…Sara shook her head bitterly, burying her face in her arms. It had been nearly a week now since her outburst in the restaurant. After spending the first night in the comfort of Nick's arms, she had resorted to staying home.

At first, all she could think of was Greg, of everything that was lost. She barely ate or slept, and when she did her slumber was dreamless. Grissom had stopped by only a few days before to check in on her. She hated making the others worry, but she wasn't able to face reality, not yet anyways.

Tucked in the back of her wallet was the only picture she had of Greg. The lab tech had slid it in there years ago, his phone number scrawled on the back. He told her that it was in case she ever changed his mind about him, she would know what number to call. It had all been a joke then, but now she wished she had looked closer, while there still had been time. The numbers were blurred, but still legible. Part of her wanted to dial his number, wanted to hear him pick up.

At first, all she could do was examine the small portrait, looking over the finer details she had never taken the time to notice before. After time, she finally found a small frame to slide it into, placing it on her nightstand next to her bed. It gave her some comfort knowing that she still was still able to see him every day. Sometimes when she looked at the picture, she could still hear his voice, and see that zany smile of his, the one that made her feel warm inside.

Anyone in the right mind would have told her she was going crazy, sometimes she believed that she already was. At the same time, what more could she do? Greg was dead, and nothing she said, or did even, was going to change that. Even worse, her promise to him had been broken.

Sara shifted uncomfortably on the couch, situating herself so that she was now staring at the ceiling. She hadn't spoken to anyone besides Grissom since, and only because he had trapped her, had forced her to talk with him.

She was still upset, still unable to believe that he had told everyone what had happened. She let out a sigh, biting her lip. Did Greg hate her now? Did he despise her that she had lied, and betrayed him? She had promised him that everything would be okay, had promised him that she would be there for him.

Slowly she got to her feet, her socks skimming across the carpet as she made her way to the door. For half a second she considered on not answering it, on pretending no one was home. It wouldn't be very fair, she knew. It wasn't a surprise to see Nick standing outside her place.

He gave her a frown, taking in her ruffled appearance, his gaze becoming softer. "You're not going in that are you?"

"Going where?" she asked drearily, not offering to let him in.

"The funeral?" Nick questioned slowly. "Don't tell me you're not coming."

She closed her eyes, cursing inwardly. She hadn't realized how much time had passed. "It's today?"

Nick nodded, hurrying her inside. "We still have time, if you hurry."

* * *

Sara waited her turn, doing her best to stay calm as the little girl in front of her ran up and down the rows, searching every cage. Her little fingers wrapped around the bars as she stood on tiptoes, peering into the top one, shrieking as she did so.

"That one, that one!" she cried, pointing a finger into the cage. Letting out a sigh Sara closed her eyes and prayed the small child would not change her mind once again.

"That's a good choice," the keeper said with a smile, undoing the lock. Obviously he was just as relieved, taking the small terrier out, placing it in the outstretched arms. "He's not as expensive as the others, and he comes with a free collar."

"That's nice, isn't it dear," the mother stated in a sweetened tone. "Let's bring him up front so we can take him home."

Sara stepped to the side as the coupled passed, the little girl laughing as the pup licked her face. The man walked up to her with an apologetic smile. "I'm so sorry for the wait. They told me up front you were looking for a certain dog?"

Sara nodded, pulling the picture out of her purse. "A small sheltie, she was taken here a few days back by a Jim Brass."

"Ah yes," the man nodded, waving her down the isle. "She's a friendly one, she'll be grateful that you came."

Sara let of a small smile as she came to the last cage. Kneeling down she called her name softly, reaching through the bars as the dog pressed its nose against the cage. "Come on Jenni," she whispered softly, "Let's go home."

**The End**


End file.
